Johanna's Bridegroom (7 page)

“The black one with the white mittens. I’m going to call her Mittens.”

Ruth laughed. “Mittens is a good name, but it isn’t a girl. The black
bussli
is a boy.”

Johanna stood up, grateful that Katy had interrupted their conversation. She didn’t want to think about Roland or the stupid rumor that he’d started. She wanted to clean something. She wanted to scrub floors and wash windows, anything requiring physical effort...anything to stop the hurt gathering in the hollow place inside her. “Time I got to work,” she said lightly. “Shall I start on this porch? I think the floor needs a good scrubbing.”

* * *

Two hours, three floors and nine windows later, Johanna’s temper flared just as hot. She knew she should just let it go, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t.

“Would you watch Katy for me?” she asked Ruth. “I’m going over to Roland’s and straighten this out with him.”

“Now?” Ruth asked. “Of course. You know I love having Katy anytime.” She grimaced. “I don’t think I’d want to be Roland Byler just now.”

“I’m not going to argue with him. I just want to know if he did tell anyone that I was the one who rejected him and why he did it—if it’s true. I wouldn’t want to jump to conclusions. Just because Dorcas said it, doesn’t mean that it’s so.”

Ruth stirred sugar into her pitcher of iced tea. “It’s probably right that you two have this out now. But...”

“But what?”

Ruth grimaced. “Don’t do or say anything that will make things worse.”

“What could possibly make things worse? I made a fool out of myself by asking a man to marry me, and now the story, or at least
a
story, is spreading. I’ll be a laughingstock, and so will my family.”

Ruth hugged her. “I’m so sorry, Johanna. I’ll admit, I wanted you and Roland to marry. I thought he’d be perfect for you.”

So did I,
Johanna thought.
So did I. But it’s clear that I was badly mistaken.

* * *

Roland drove the ax deep into the upright section of log and it split with a satisfying crack. He’d been at it since before noon, and the woodpile beside the corncrib was growing steadily. This was applewood, rescued from an English neighbor who had planned on having a bonfire after he cleared an old orchard. Apple burned clean and hot and gave off a wonderful smell. Burning applewood as trash was a terrible waste, but when he’d offered to buy the uprooted trees, Paul had suggested a trade. Two days’ labor at harvest time in exchange for the applewood, an offer that Roland had been more than willing to accept.

There was an old saying, “Firewood heats twice, once when you chop it, and again when you burn it.” That was true enough, but he’d be glad to have the cured logs when cold weather came. And splitting wood took a lot of effort. It kept a man’s body in good shape, and prevented him from thinking too much about things that troubled him. At least, he’d hoped it might. Johanna had been worrying him like a stone wedged under a horse’s shoe.

He couldn’t help going over and over that last conversation they’d had at the Mennonite festival, when she’d suggested they marry, saying it as plainly as if she had asked him to pass the salt—and with as little emotion.

When he’d lost Pauline and the babes she was carrying, he’d felt for months as if he was dead inside. But then, when Johanna’s husband had passed away, a small seed of hope had begun to sprout. Maybe there was a chance that he and Johanna could find what they’d both felt for each other once, and nourish it again. Maybe they could have a second chance.

Years ago, when Johanna had thrown him over, she’d been right to do it. He wasn’t worthy of her, wasn’t the man his mother and father had raised him to be. He’d paid the penalty for his reckless behavior. But later, he’d truly repented for his acts, and he’d returned to his faith. He’d been honest with Pauline, and she’d been willing to believe in him. He would have loved her for that, if for nothing else.

But when he began to live again, when his mourning for Pauline had grown bearable, he began to long for Johanna Yoder. He’d pictured her at his table, in his garden and in his orchard. He’d imagined walking to church with her and watching her face when she sang the old hymns. But in that dream, she loved him as much as he loved her. And if she didn’t love him...if she couldn’t, how could he go through with a farce? How could he marry a woman who wanted him because he had a good sheep meadow and a farm without a mortgage? Better to live alone than live a lie.... So why did it ache so much?

“Roland?”

He sank the blade of the ax into the chopping block and turned, expecting to see his sister Mary. She’d taken J.J. for the morning and promised to bring him back on her way to her afternoon cleaning job at an Englishwoman’s house. But it wasn’t Mary, and it wasn’t J.J. Roland’s pulse quickened at the sight of Johanna walking toward him.

“We need to talk,” she said.

Chapter Seven

R
oland stepped away from the woodpile, pulled off his leather work gloves and inhaled deeply. He was filthy and sweating heavily, no fit sight for a woman he’d hoped to court. But here she was and here he was, and it was face her or run, and he’d never been a coward.

“I’m listening,” Roland said. His chest tightened, and he felt as if the earth was unsteady under his feet. Why was it that Johanna always made him feel unsure of himself? It wasn’t just that her big blue eyes radiated strength, and it wasn’t the unusual color of her red-gold hair, or her beautiful, heart-shaped face. A man would have to be blind not to see the neat waist or her tidy figure. But Johanna was a woman who had more that just beauty.

For him, she had always brought joy into his life. When he caught sight of her, his heart always beat a little faster and the sky seemed bluer. Johanna wasn’t shy and retiring, like so many Amish girls, and she never hesitated to speak her mind. She didn’t say the first thing that popped into her head, though, and she had a dry sense of humor that matched his own.

“Roland?” The sound of her voice was as soothing as rain on a tin roof after a drought.

He straightened his shoulders, shaking off the ache of hard-used muscles and the cramping at the back of his neck that came from swinging an ax for hours on end. “I’m sorry for the way we parted last,” he said with what he hoped was quiet dignity.

“Did you tell anyone about what passed between us on Saturday?” Her tone came firm, without being strident, and her bright blue eyes demanded honesty.

Regret flooded him. Charley had a big mouth, and from the look on Johanna’s face he’d obviously shared their conversation, at the very least with his wife. “I did,” Roland admitted, trying not to sound defensive. “It troubled me that you and I should argue over something so important as marriage. I talked it out with my brother.”

“I see.” Johanna’s lower lip trembled, and her face paled so that her freckles stood out against her creamy skin. She looked as if she might cry.

Roland swallowed. He never could abide a woman’s tears, and the thought that he might hurt Johanna enough to make her weep hit him like a horse’s kick to his midsection.

She came closer and lowered her voice, although there was no one but God and the two of them to hear. “I ask because there’s talk. Yesterday, Dorcas told my sister Ruth that you asked me to marry you and I wouldn’t have you.”

“What?” He blinked. “I never said that. I told Charley... I didn’t repeat everything that passed between us, but I would never lie. I told Charley that it was me who said no.”

“So Dorcas had it wrong?”

He nodded. “Dorcas had it wrong.”

Johanna took a deep breath and glanced away, them back at him. “I’m glad.” She looked... She looked vulnerable, and that made him feel even worse. He’d always thought of her as tough...but she wasn’t. Not really. She just did a good job of hiding her weaknesses.

She took a step closer. “Despite our quarrel, Roland, I never thought you’d be one to go behind my back with an untruth. I thought it fair to come and ask you¸ face-to-face—not to just believe rumors.”

“I appreciate that.”

She nibbled at her bottom lip, and he saw that she was as nervous as he was. “But you told Charley.”

He nodded. “I did. I thought I needed advice.”

“And what did Charley say?”

Roland shrugged. “That the community...the family...think we should marry. They expect us to come to an agreement.”

Johanna took another step toward him. Roland felt like a weather vane on top of a barn, gusts of wind catching it and blowing it first one way and then the other.

“And...do you still feel the same as when we talked last?” she asked. “About wanting romantic love? You don’t think we should listen to those who know us best—if we shouldn’t just make the match...for the sake of our children?”

He hesitated. This was his opportunity to make everything right. All he had to do was swallow his pride. He could have Johanna as his wife, as long as he didn’t ask for her pledge of love. But he couldn’t do it, because there could be no real marriage between a man and woman without honesty. “I do,” he said. “My thoughts on that haven’t changed.”

“All right,” she agreed. “That’s fair. I still stand by my words, as well.”

Disappointment made him bold. Or maybe it was the thread of hope he still held in his heart. “Is it because of what happened between us when we were walking out?” he asked. “How I failed you? Or is the problem because of Wilmer?”

She looked unsure. Maybe a little afraid. Not of him...but of herself. “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe both.”

He knew how close he was to pushing too far with this honesty, but he had to take the chance. “And is this something that could change, or is there no chance of...of love between us?”

She covered her mouth with that slender hand and shook her head. Slowly, she lowered her hand. “I don’t know, Roland.”

He exhaled, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Did she mean there
was
a chance?

“We’re agreed, then,” she said. “The question is, what do we do about the gossip?”

Agreed? There had been no agreement. They were like two hardheaded goats with their horns locked together. “Why do we have to do anything? It’s what we know that matters. Next week they’ll be talking about somebody else.”

“It
does
matter,” Johanna said. “These are our friends, our neighbors...our family. How did the story get twisted from what you told Charley to what Dorcas told Ruth?”

“I’m sure you have more important things to worry about than what Dorcas says.”

“So I’m to go to each person who’s heard this tale and straighten them out?”

He shrugged. “I’d let it lie. If you talk to Ruth, she’ll tell Eli and Miriam. Miriam will tell Charley and—”

“I thought Charley had it straight.”

“He did, from me.” Roland flushed. “I suppose, I shouldn’t have said anything to him but—”

“
Ne.
You shouldn’t have. It wasn’t Charley’s business. It was private, between us.” Her mouth firmed. “I wish you’d left it that way.”

“So I shouldn’t talk to my brother about what’s bothering me, but it’s all right for you to share what passes between us with your sisters?”

She folded her arms. “I didn’t come here to argue with you, Roland.”

“I suppose I should be grateful for that.”

“You should.” She looked down at her bare feet and surprised him with a chuckle. “Listen to us, arguing like an old married couple. “I’m sorry. I came to get an explanation, but I never doubted you. You can be thickheaded, but you’re...”

“A decent person?” He forced a wry smile. “While you’re here, you might as well tend your bees, and I’ll finish chopping my wood. I think we’ve both said enough on this subject to last a week or two.”

“If it bothers you, my coming here to look after the hive, I can move it. I think they’re settled enough now. If I come at night and—”

“Keep your bees here as long as you like. They’re no trouble to me, and it seems they like my garden. I see them everywhere. Even I know that it’s safer to move them in cool weather. I wouldn’t want to see you lose them after all your hard work.”

She nodded. “There’s sense in that. But I’ll tell you plainly, I mean to find out what Charley said and who he said it to.”

“That again, is it?” Roland shrugged again. “Go to it, if it pleases you, but I’ll have no part of your detective game.” She turned to walk away, and he couldn’t resist saying, “There’s a work frolic at the Stutzman brothers’—you know the Lancaster Amish who bought the Englisher farm next to Norman and Lydia’s. On Saturday the twenty-first. Not this Saturday but the following. Some of us are going to build a dog-proof pasture fence and a shed for their dairy-goat herd.”

“Lydia said they were camping in a tent on the property, but I haven’t met them.”

“Thomas and Will Stutzman, brothers. Big lot of their friends and family coming down from Pennsylvania in July to put up a house, but they needed help to get their herd settled in.”

Johanna relaxed her arms and tilted her head, obviously curious. “
Mam
said that she’d heard they were cheese makers.”

“It’s mostly young married couples and those walking out going. Charley and Miriam are going, and so are Mary and Little Joe King. We’re having food and a bonfire after dark. Maybe you’d like to come with me?”

She hesitated. “I don’t think so. Not with things the way they stand with us.”

“So this time, you’re refusing me,” he said quietly.

“I’m afraid so.” She averted her eyes. “I don’t mind going to help out our new neighbors, but I’ll drive myself or come with Charley and Miriam. There’s no sense in causing more talk about us.... Or in pretending we’re courting, when we’re not.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” he said, trying to keep the edge from his voice. “Especially since there’s no
us
to feed the gossip.”

* * *

The following afternoon, Johanna, Jonah and ’Kota were driving Johanna’s flock of sheep from one pasture into the low meadow with the aid of
Mam’s
Shetland sheepdog Flora. Nine of the cheviot ewes and their lambs were obediently following the dominant cheviot ewe, but two didn’t want to cooperate. The troublemaker, as usual, was Snowball—the only Cormo. She managed to squeeze under the fence, followed by a straggler, and trot toward the cornfield.

“Abatz dummkopf!”
’Kota cried, pointing at the escapees. “Stop, stupid heads!”

“They’re going into the corn!” Jonah shouted.

“You two keep the flock moving toward the meadow, and when they’re all in, close the gate. But wait there until I chase the other two back, and let them in.”

“And lock the gate!” ’Kota jumped from one foot to the other with excitement.

Since he’d come to live at
Mam’s
farm last fall, he’d fallen in love with barnyard animals, but the sheep were his favorite. He was fascinated by every aspect of caring for them, including the lambing and the shearing of their fleece. Jonah, in contrast, liked the sheep well enough, but he favored the larger animals. He loved nothing more than trailing after his uncle Charley and helping to tend the horses and cows.

Johanna hitched up her skirt and climbed over the fence. The two sheep had found a row of corn and were busily munching on the six-inch-high plants. “Shoo! Shoo!” Johanna said.

Charley came out of the orchard on a three-year-old gelding that he was breaking to saddle for an Englishwoman and spotted the runaway sheep. He shouted to Johanna. “I’ll give you a hand!”

She waved her apron and ran at the two sheep. The cheviot ewe went one way, and Snowball went in the opposite direction, a mouthful of corn leaves dangling from her mouth. Johanna took off after Snowball, leaving the other ewe for Charlie to corral.

The silly creature trotted down the rows of corn just as Aunt Martha and
Mam
came into the yard in her husband’s, Uncle Reuben’s, buggy. The two women climbed down and made an attempt to chase Snowball into an open shed. Hearing the shouting, Susanna and Rebecca left the side yard, where they’d been hanging clothes, and joined in the pursuit. Susanna caught hold of Snowball’s collar, but the sheep yanked free and made for the garden gate with Aunt Martha and
Mam
hot on the animal’s heels.

Johanna tripped over a clod of dirt and fell on her bottom. Then she began to laugh. Seeing her mother and Aunt Martha running after the ewe was the funniest thing she’d seen in weeks. She laughed until she was breathless and tears of laughter ran down her cheeks. She was still laughing when Charley rode up on the gelding.

“I got mine,” he said. “Chased it back through the fence. The boys turned it in with the others.”

“I didn’t get mine,” she admitted between chuckles. “For all I know, it’s halfway to Dover. That one sheep is more trouble than the whole flock.” She got to her feet and brushed the dirt off her hands and skirt.

Charley took off his hat and wiped the sweat off his forehead. The horse danced nervously and twitched its ears. Charley stroked the animal’s neck and spoke soothingly to it. “Easy, easy, boy.” He looked back at her. “If it’s so much trouble, why keep it? Send it to the sale.”

Johanna sighed. “Snowball doesn’t belong to me. Wilmer brought it home for Katy, just before he died. The man he worked for couldn’t pay his wages and gave Wilmer the ewe instead. She’s worth a lot of money. She’s a Cormo, and their wool is greatly sought after. I hoped to improve my flock with her and we could always use the extra money.”

“And meanwhile, you put up with the monster.”

“I suppose I do.” She rolled her eyes. “Aunt Martha may have killed her by now. She nearly ran Aunt Martha and
Mam
over, and I think they chased her through the garden.”

Charley tugged his hat down. “Sorry I missed that.”

“Me, too.” She surveyed the damaged corn. “At least they didn’t have time to eat enough to make themselves sick or to destroy too much of the crop.”

“The flock could do some damage here,” Charley remarked.

Johanna nodded.
Mam
was coming to depend more and more on him to do the heavy farming. With the girls marrying off, one by one, it was a blessing that they had Charley and that he and Miriam would continue to work
Dat’s
land in the future.

He shifted in the saddle. “You and my brother still butting heads?”

Johanna frowned. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you. I understand that Roland told you about something that happened between us—that I said it made sense for us to marry. And he turned me down. Is that what he said?”

Charley nodded. “That’s what he said.”

“Well, there’s a rumor going around. And it seems people have it all wrong. What did you tell Miriam?”

Charley’s brow wrinkled. “Nothing. I didn’t say anything to her. I thought that you’d tell her yourself—if you wanted her to know.”

Johanna gazed up at him. “But if you didn’t tell Miriam, who did you tell?”

Charley’s face reddened. “Mary. I didn’t mean to. It just slipped out. She was asking about Roland, and...”